Tonight I'm standing in Keflavik Internationnal Airport, holding the boardsign of my touring company. In the back of it, I keep the list of the people I'm waiting for. The list is long, so will be the wait. I'm standing among other people like me. I bet we look funny, all at once trying to be visible. I know some of them. Or at least their faces are common. Some give me a sign from the head while I'm arriving taking my spot for the next 3 or 4 hours.
Six times a week I'm coming at KEF. After grabbing my lists and a pen at the office I jump in my car and drive to the airport. The car is very bad. Doors don't close anymore so I don't even need keys to get in. Fortunatly Iceland is a quite safe place, plus I don't know who would bother stealing this garbage. It makes an awful noise, but usually it's enough to drive the 5 kms to the airport. I say usually, because once I had a breakdown right before a roundabout on the way... I wouldn't have expected that I would come to Iceland to drive something worst than my old twingo!
The way to the airport goes through the raw and peaceful lava fields. Sometimes I pass by and scare a family of wild ducks on my way. Soon I find the airport, guarded by a dragon egg. The airport is not big, like every human constructions in Iceland. About 40 kms far from the capital, this is the only internationnal airport, the one of Reykjavik being only used for internal flights, plus flights to Faroese Islands and to Groenland. The airport was built during WWII, by the U.S. military and for military purpose only. In the 50s the terminal found itself positionned in the core of a military complex. This was the start of a big controversy in Iceland as internationnal travellers had to enter military check points. And the U.S. military kept their control on access to and from Iceland until 1987 when the civil terminal was moved. The U.S. actually kept military basis until 2006. This presence was felt by many Icelanders as an occupation and led to numerous protests against the United States and NATO. Every year protesters walked from Reykjavik to the airport, singing Ísland úr NATO, herinn burt (Iceland out of NATO, the military away).
In the airport, the wait is long, as always. Fortunatly I have some people to speak with. My neighbour is a young Icelander. He's amazed by the fact that I "come from Latvia". He's trying to speak with me in russian. His russian sounds ok, but the accent is terrible. Icelandic accent in russian sounds funny. It reminds me of estonian accent. There is also my bus driver (I take my tourists to a bus). I know the one of tonight, she's cool. She's always so happy to see me, and so kind. She talks a lot about her family and how it is great to spend time with people you love. She also makes me read things she writes. During her long waits at the airport, she is writting stories for children. This one is the story of a polar bear from Groenland who arrives in Iceland on an Iceberg. I read only the begining of the story but it sounds awesome.
Sometimes in my long waits, when I see those many people from around the world, I would like to take off and fly somewhere. I'll have to wait a bit for that. We'll be in Iceland until the autumn. Anyway this week wasn't the best for flying by plane.
Finally my german tourists arrive! I welcome them with my terrible german and explain them they have to wait everyone arrives before to go to Reykjavik. Most of them are nice. Some are very talkative, and I don't get everything but I don't think it matters for them. Some german accents are very hard for me to understand. For instance, berliner german is very easy to get but swiss german I understand only one word every ten words.
All in all it's a funny job (actually only one of my jobs here in Iceland). I like to work at night if I don't have to wake up early the next morning. And I like to pretend I can speak languages! Actually my german is getting much better now with this job...
Six times a week I'm coming at KEF. After grabbing my lists and a pen at the office I jump in my car and drive to the airport. The car is very bad. Doors don't close anymore so I don't even need keys to get in. Fortunatly Iceland is a quite safe place, plus I don't know who would bother stealing this garbage. It makes an awful noise, but usually it's enough to drive the 5 kms to the airport. I say usually, because once I had a breakdown right before a roundabout on the way... I wouldn't have expected that I would come to Iceland to drive something worst than my old twingo!
The way to the airport goes through the raw and peaceful lava fields. Sometimes I pass by and scare a family of wild ducks on my way. Soon I find the airport, guarded by a dragon egg. The airport is not big, like every human constructions in Iceland. About 40 kms far from the capital, this is the only internationnal airport, the one of Reykjavik being only used for internal flights, plus flights to Faroese Islands and to Groenland. The airport was built during WWII, by the U.S. military and for military purpose only. In the 50s the terminal found itself positionned in the core of a military complex. This was the start of a big controversy in Iceland as internationnal travellers had to enter military check points. And the U.S. military kept their control on access to and from Iceland until 1987 when the civil terminal was moved. The U.S. actually kept military basis until 2006. This presence was felt by many Icelanders as an occupation and led to numerous protests against the United States and NATO. Every year protesters walked from Reykjavik to the airport, singing Ísland úr NATO, herinn burt (Iceland out of NATO, the military away).
In the airport, the wait is long, as always. Fortunatly I have some people to speak with. My neighbour is a young Icelander. He's amazed by the fact that I "come from Latvia". He's trying to speak with me in russian. His russian sounds ok, but the accent is terrible. Icelandic accent in russian sounds funny. It reminds me of estonian accent. There is also my bus driver (I take my tourists to a bus). I know the one of tonight, she's cool. She's always so happy to see me, and so kind. She talks a lot about her family and how it is great to spend time with people you love. She also makes me read things she writes. During her long waits at the airport, she is writting stories for children. This one is the story of a polar bear from Groenland who arrives in Iceland on an Iceberg. I read only the begining of the story but it sounds awesome.
Sometimes in my long waits, when I see those many people from around the world, I would like to take off and fly somewhere. I'll have to wait a bit for that. We'll be in Iceland until the autumn. Anyway this week wasn't the best for flying by plane.
Finally my german tourists arrive! I welcome them with my terrible german and explain them they have to wait everyone arrives before to go to Reykjavik. Most of them are nice. Some are very talkative, and I don't get everything but I don't think it matters for them. Some german accents are very hard for me to understand. For instance, berliner german is very easy to get but swiss german I understand only one word every ten words.
All in all it's a funny job (actually only one of my jobs here in Iceland). I like to work at night if I don't have to wake up early the next morning. And I like to pretend I can speak languages! Actually my german is getting much better now with this job...
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